


Calm

by elumish



Series: Werewolves 101 [19]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bondage, Dom/sub, Gags, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elumish/pseuds/elumish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Go to the bedroom and strip. Put your clothes somewhere out of the way, then lay down on your back on the bed with your hands holding the headboard and your eyes closed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm

**Author's Note:**

> This is set between chapters 7 and 8 of War, but it requires basically no prior knowledge of anything that's going on in the series and contains no spoilers for anything beyond, at the earliest, maybe halfway through Werewolves 101, though not even really that (unless you could "Stiles is stressed" as a spoiler). It also contributes absolutely nothing to the plot, and you can read it without having any other interaction with the series. It's literally just porn.

Stiles sits with his back to the wall, legs crossed in front of him, hands in his lap. He breathes in through his nose, slowly, eight count, then lets it out with through his mouth in a twelve count. He’s calm, now, as calm as he ever gets.

Footsteps approach, but he doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t stop breathing. Because it’s not like he doesn’t know who it is, and he doesn’t want to give up the calm right now.

“You busy?”

Stiles tilts his head up slightly. “Who’s asking?” His voice is slow now, not slurred like when he’s down but slower than he’s been in a while.

He hears the smile in Derek’s voice. “Me.”

Stiles opens his eyes, blinking away the blur from his vision. “No, now’s fine. What’s up?”

“I—” Derek hesitates for a second, then asks, “You up for being tied down?”

Not actually where he thought Derek was going to go, but okay. “Yeah. I mean, the answer is almost always yes, unless I’m freaking out or grading papers, in which case the answer is maybe. But yeah.”

“Good. I want to do it when you’re calm. When you smell _good_.”

Stiles mock-scowls at him, pushing up to his feet. “You mean I don’t smell good normally?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yep.” Stiles grins at him. “So, yeah, being tied up. Whoo. All for that. What do you want me to do?”

Derek stares at him for a second, looking like he’s working through something, then says, “Go to the bedroom and strip. Put your clothes somewhere out of the way, then lay down on your back on the bed with your hands holding the headboard and your eyes closed. Color?”

“Green.”

Derek nods. “Then go.”

Stiles goes.

He actually folds his clothes before sticking them in a pile under the chair because he’s calm enough to have the patience to do so, then flops down on the bed, grabs on to the headboard, and closes his eyes.

He’s tired, tired like back in high school, the kind of tired where you think if you close your eyes you won’t remember to open them again, not quite getting to the microsleep stage where sometimes you blink and time has passed, but he’s good at staying awake, has always been good at staying awake, and he’s _good_ now, good for the first time in a while, so he resists the temptation to just pass out.

Derek pads into the room, making enough noise so that Stiles can hear him, which he appreciates. Because he’s calm, but he’s enough back into hypervigilance mood that being surprised like this would be a mood-killer at best.

“I’m going to blindfold you, gag you, and tie you down. And then I’m going to do what I want with you. Color?”

Stiles gets hard, just like that, just from those words. “Green. So fucking much green.”

Derek’s hand touches his cheek, two callused fingers against his skin. “Pick your head up, just a bit.” He fits a blindfold around Stiles’s eyes, and then his lips are on Stiles’s, and he surges up, kissing him back, and he feels _good_. Derek presses him back down, hands on his shoulders, kissing him until he’s breathless. “You smell so fucking good, so calm. I love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

Derek hums. “Okay, open your mouth now. That’s good.” He slides his fingers into Stiles’s mouth, moaning when Stiles sucks on them. “That, ah—open, not closed.”

“So’y,” Stiles mumbles around the fingers, then actually opens his mouth again. Something touches his lips, and it’s not the ball gag he was expecting. It’s cylindrical, and slides into his mouth; he fits his mouth around it, and it’s kind of like a penis, but not…person. And he can bite it. Which you’re not supposed to do with penises.

It’s kind of awesome, actually, as Derek fits it around his head, because it’s like the feeling of having a dick in his mouth, of having that weight that’s full and heavy in his mouth, but there’s still another person doing stuff beyond the dick, and he can bite as hard as he wants, and he doesn’t have to talk.

“Be careful how you breathe so you don’t gag.” Stiles nods; he’s already breathing through his nose, but yeah, gagging would suck. “I probably should have warned you. You okay with it?” Stiles nods again. “I’m going to tie you down now. I’m going to tie your hands together but not to the headboard, so letting go will count as a red. Nod if you understand.” Stiles nods a third time.

There’s nothing for a second, and then Derek’s hands are on his feet, sliding his thumb across his ankle bone. “You’re amazing. I know you don’t see that, you don’t think that, but you open yourself up to me, you let yourself be vulnerable, and you don’t know how amazing that is.”

Stiles wants to protest, but he can’t, not with the gag in his mouth, so he just squirms, and Derek laughs. “See, this is why I compliment you when you’re gagged.” He starts wrapping rope around one ankle, the tension so that Stiles’s legs are spread but not uncomfortable. “I think I might suck you off, get you close but not let you come. The way you squirm, the noises you make, it makes me want to keep you like that forever, almost coming but not quite, not yet.”

Stiles’s hips jerk up, because goddamn it, Derek doesn’t talk much, but he has a way with words, and Stiles is aching hard now. “You like that idea, don’t you? Because you’ll come when I tell you to. So maybe I’ll just make you come when I want you to, regardless of whether or not you think you want to come, or can. As many times as I want you to.”

Stiles is making noises behind the gag, inadvertently, because goddamn.

Derek laughs, moving on to the other ankle. “Or I could just leave you like this and watch you try to fuck yourself on the air.”

Oh, fuck. He strains up, not really on purpose, because no, but also please, and oh God.

Derek pushes his hips back down, then moves on to his wrists, lacing them together down just far enough on his arms to be on the verge of uncomfortable, where he can’t separate them, but where it doesn’t hurt quite yet.

And then he stops making noise.

Which yeah, Stiles will admit, is kind of disconcerting, because even though he knows Derek wouldn’t leave him alone, it feels like he’s alone, feels like there’s nobody there, feels like he’s tied up and gagged alone in the dark and there’s no way to get free, no way to get out—

And then Derek’s hand touches his cheek just above the gag, and he says, “You started to freak out. Do you need something from me?” Stiles nods. “Do you need out?” He shakes his head. “Water?” Shakes his head again. “Was it something I did?” A nod. “You were fine when I was making sure you could hear me. Do you need me to do that?” Relieved, Stiles nods again. “Okay, I can do that.”

Then without warning, his hand is on Stiles’s dick, and he surges up, straining against the restraints keeping him tied to the bedpost and his own hands keeping him attached to the headboard as he tries to get more of Derek’s touch, which is feather-light and just this side of torture.

Derek laughs, other hand shifting away from his cheek to slide down his arm, across his chest to between his legs, and then it goes away and a second later there’s the squirt of lube, and the feeling of cold against his ass makes him flinch.

Derek moves the hand from his dick to his hip, where he gives him a pat. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do. I’m going to finger you for a while, until you think you can’t take it anymore, until you would be begging if you could talk, and the whole time I’m not going to touch your dick. And you’re going to come like that, because if you do, I’m not going to stop. You know me, I can keep going for much longer than you can. And once you’ve come that way, I’m going to start sucking you off, start draining every drop from you, and we don’t stop when you think we’re done. We stop when I do. Nod if you understand.”

Breathing harder now, chest heaving as his dick strains between his legs, looking for some sort of sensation, anything, Stiles nods.

And then Derek’s first finger slides in.

\--

By the time Derek is done, Stiles isn’t actually sure he could pry his fingers off of the headboard if he tried, and he’s not sure he cares. He feels fucked out in the best possible way, head like someone dipped it in molasses, cock oversensitive and twitching, Derek’s cum all over his chest. So he doesn’t even open his eyes when Derek lifts his head to pull the blindfold off and then slide the gag out of his mouth; saliva has run all down his cheek, and he feels the pull from the string of it still attached to the side of the gag.

Derek’s lips land on his, and he doesn’t have the energy to kiss back, so he just lays there as Derek kisses him once, twice, before moving on to the rope around his wrists. “I know you’re tired, but we’re going to shower now, or you’ll regret it in the morning.”

Stiles moans at the thought of getting up, curling up as best as he can around Derek’s body with his hands still attached to the headboard. “Don’ wanna.”

“I know you don’t, but you’ll wish you had.” He kisses Stiles’s forehead, which is covered in cooling sweat. “You were so good. You know that, right? You’re so good to me, for me. You took everything I was giving you. I love you.” His fingers go to Stiles’s hands, opening them up, and ow ow ow cramp. “I know this hurts, and I’m sorry.” He brings the fingers up to his lips, kisses them, and the pain drain away. “I’m going to carry you to the shower, but you’re going to need to stand up in there.”

“Nngh.”

Derek’s hands move underneath him, lifting him up, and he curls up even more against Derek as they go. “I know, I know. I love you.”

Stiles buries his face against Derek’s chest and mumbles, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> You may have noticed I like writing bondage. And aftercare. So...yeah. There's that.


End file.
